


Planes, please

by hendollana



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Just gross fluff really, M/M, SO SORRY, also slight size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 04:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18684427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hendollana/pseuds/hendollana
Summary: Andy hates planes and losing. Virgil just hates Andy not being happy.





	Planes, please

**Author's Note:**

> wheeew. i'm tryna work some things out after last nights loss through the prose of andy and virgil. it's very short and very not good but i also hate losing and planes and love virgil so essentially i am andy. Anyway pls enjoy!! up the reds we gon smash em 10-0 at anfield
> 
> (not beta read bc im too sad)

The plane is solemn and so, _so_ quiet. Andy hates it, isn’t used to it, and he hates that when he takes a glance around the seats, he can see his teammates, his best friends, looking so upset and defeated. He knows he looks the same, his eyes downcast and his fingers slow as they scroll through Instagram, scoffing at all the videos of the match with captions about how good Barcelona were.

Andy is still moping to himself when he feels a body slide down onto the seat next to his, he also hates that he can tell who it is just by the smell of his aftershave.

“Hey, big guy.”

Virgil smiles at him, a soft, warm smile, and everything almost feels okay again.

“Hey yourself,” Virgil mumbles back to him, voice quiet to match the atmosphere, “How you feeling?”

Andy’s first thought is to say he’s feeling shite, that he wants to be home in his bed and be pettily unfollowing Messi on Instagram. But really, he knows they played well, he knows that he and Virgil both played exceptionally well, and he knows that Barcelona had dumb luck and the best player in the world to get them the undeserving score line.

“Been better,” Robbo replies, moving his hand from his phone screen to rest on Virgil’s thigh, “You?”

“Raging.” Virgil says, “That’s Scottish slang for angry, right?”

Robbo grins, he feels all warm and fuzzy inside when Virgil integrates Scottish words into the way he talks, it makes him want to learn some Dutch to surprise Virgil with. Andy supposes he’ll have to ask Gini for help.

“Yeah, it is.” Robbo breathes, his smile fading a little as he thinks about how angry he is too, “And me too, god, me too. I’m so fucking raging Virg, it’s so unfair.”

Virgil sighs, he’s moved his own hand to rest on top of Andy’s, his fingers running lightly over Andy’s smaller ones. The gentle movement makes Andy sigh too, a content sigh that tells Virgil that they both need the quiet comfort right now.

“I know. I just,” Virgil begins, and then stops, his brows furrowing, “We were so good, and the first two goals were bullshit anyway and then Messi’s freekick? I mean what were any of us supposed to do about that?”

“Score, I suppose.” Robbo deadpans, slumping down in his seat and pulling his hoodie strings tighter around his neck with his hand that isn’t being clasped by Virgil’s.

Virg snorts a little in response, “Yeah well, there’s always that.”

Andy turns his head around to face Virgil, the flight attendant is spieling off the safety announcement and Andy knows maybe he should be paying attention to her but they fly so often that he thinks he could get up there and do it himself. He prefers to look at Virgil anyway, he looks serious, and Andy hates that he’s thinking about how hot he looks right now, when he knows Virgil is running eight hundred scripts through his head on what he could have done better so they didn’t lose. He hates how hard Virgil is on himself, but Andy _gets_ it, he’s too hard on himself too. They all are after a loss, especially a loss like this, an undeserved loss where they all just feel so defeated, even Klopp looks like he knows it’s over. It makes Andy want to give up and fight till they knock Barca out five nil at Anfield at the same time.

They’re taking off now and Andy can’t help but grab onto Virgil’s hand a little tighter. He hates flying, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of being pushed back onto his seat as the plane makes its way down the runway. The rest of the team make fun of him a little for it, joke about how he only hates flying because he’s never been in a team that has to travel far before Liverpool. Andy supposes they’re right; he wasn’t exactly making trips to Spain when he played for Dundee.

“Holding my hand tight enough, Robbo?” Virgil chuckles, and when Andy glances down he can see Virgil’s hand is going white from the grip of Andy’s own. He quickly pulls it away, embarrassed that he’s acting so scared, he usually sits next to Milly on the plane home and he’s used to Robbo’s silly fear, and even then, they’ve usually won and they’re all too filled with happiness and adrenaline or Andy to pay mind to his fear of the plane crashing and them all ending up on some deserted island.

Virgil’s grabbed his hand back though and his eyes are soft and kind as they look down at Andy, “Hey, it’s okay.”

Andy shrugs, “Yeah. I know, don’t wanna break your fingers so close to the end of the season though.”

Virgil’s still looking at him all loving and gentle and it makes Robbo want to melt into his seat. This thing they’ve had going on has only been a thing for a few months and yet Andy couldn’t imagine not spending half his nights in the comfort of Virgil’s bed, with the light from the tv illuminating them as Virgil teases him about getting to play for Celtic whilst Andy never got to. He wouldn’t have it any other way though.

“With your tiny arms? Do some more weight training and then we’ll see.” Virgil laughs, wrapping his spare hand around Andy’s bicep and squeezing it slightly.

“Oy,” Andy scoffs, wiggling his arm out of Virgils’ grip, and then sort of regretting it when he feels cold without Virgil’s hand clasping him, “Not all of us can be freakishly huge giants.”

“Aw, don’t you worry,” Virgil fake coos, reaching over to lightly boop Andy on the nose, laughing even more when Andy pushes his hand away with a sound of disgust, “I like you just the way you are.”

Andy rolls his eyes but blushes at the same time, cursing his pale skin for showing up any risen blood on his cheeks, but he feels quite lucky that he has this. That he has Virgil. That after a soul crushing loss he can laugh and joke and comfort and be comforted by someone he hasn’t told yet but loves.

Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t give as good as he can take, “Fuck off. And move your huge head so I can see out the window across us.”

“Ouch.” Virgil says, deliberately moving his head so it’s right in front of Andy’s line of sight, “That’s just cruel, babe.”

“Babe? Are we really that couple now?” Andy whines a little, giving up on his conquest to look past Virgil’s head and instead focusing on his face instead, the lines on his forehead that are softened now and less filled with worry about the game. Robbo feels happy that he’s at least partly responsible for that.

“Yep, and we’re also this couple now too.” Virgil grins, before leaning down to press a soft kiss on Andy’s forehead, smiling even wider when Andy leans into it, any remaining tension draining out his body.

“Yeah, okay.” Andy smiles back, dropping his head onto Virgil’s shoulder.

“Sleep now, we’ll be home in an hour or so.”

Andy groans, wishing he could go to sleep, “If I fall asleep now then I just won’t want to wake back up, and then how am I supposed to get off the plane and drive home?”

“I’ll carry you off the plane and drive us both to _mine_. Sorted.” Virgil says, matter of fact. Andy knows he isn’t joking, which he hates and loves simultaneously, he knows that Virgil, the stupid Neanderthal, would carry him off the plane and to his jeep in plain sight and view of cameras and not give a shit. Andy can’t help but think that it’s a pity that the media would give a shit.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Robbo starts, smiling when Virgil frowns a little down at him and looks disappointed, “To the first part, going to yours sounds nice.”

Virgil’s face lights back up, as if he thought Andy would actually want to be alone after this god forsaken day, “Okay, good. Then go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re about to land.”

Andy nods, and bumps his head into Virgil’s jaw softly, a silent thank you. Yeah, he definitely loves this man.

 


End file.
